


Dragonfire Dive

by Nyx_Auralis



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: A/B/O, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Dragoon Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Final Fantasy XIV: Heavensward Spoilers, M/M, Minor Aymeric de Borel/Estinien Wyrmblood, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-10-09 06:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17401904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyx_Auralis/pseuds/Nyx_Auralis
Summary: Au’ri can, under specific conditions, draw on their draconic heritage.  It’s rare to be able to do this. The Warrior of Light is one of the rarer Xaela with this ability.  Dragoons call on the power of their inner dragon to fight. Midgardsormr’s knight is no exception.  In fact, it amplifies the Warrior of Light’s draconic nature.  Much to his dismay, because that's usually how he gets into trouble--an Alpha in heat is a territorial Alpha. Said territorial Alpha is a vicious Alpha.Estinien and Aymeric are totally in love with the Warrior of Light. Aymeric has no qualms with it; Estinien is, well, Estinien about it.Warrior of Light is extremely grateful for Aymeric's understanding and compassion; the occasional requests serve as escapes when WoL’s heat is near. It also gives him a chance to check on Estinien, his other favorite Ishgardian. Said Ishgardian narrowly escaped death. While WoL would like to blame the need to check on him as a by product of their being tied through their experiences with Nidhogg, it's really more than that.  He'd rather not say it to Estinien, though.He doesn't trust that the former Azure won't take off running.





	1. Hero to All, Friend to Few, A Man to Two

**Author's Note:**

> A/B/O DYNAMICS. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ. TURN AROUND NOW.
> 
> Now that the important bit is out the way--
> 
> Ship: Beta!AymericxAlpha!WoLxOmega!Estinien
> 
> A/B/O fic with Estinien and Aymeric being totally in love with the Warrior of Light. WoL is quite happy with this. Aymeric is trying to help. Estinien is stubborn. A blizzard helps motivate the Ishgardians to help their hero. And, you know, realize that the stoicism is really just the front for a maelstrom of emotions that WoL doesn't know how to handle. 
> 
> WoL here is based off my dragoon WoL in-game, Damian.
> 
> (A)lpha: They’re the leads, more often than not, and if an omega is in heat, well…..you’re fortunate if an Alpha restrains instinct to consider the person’s well being first. Few have the kind of self-discipline to not prioritize self over others. 
> 
> Beta: The mom-friend. Can be vicious, can be sweet (but their Alpha’s health they’ll always keep). Most of the population falls here. Them finding their soulmate(s) is not oft, but boy is it spicy when they do.
> 
> Omega: Has to get yelled at by mom friend to take care of themselves. When in heat, though, they are a force to be reckoned with in heat, they will use the nearest person to fuck. They want to please their Alpha, but please don’t misunderstand that they are vicious.

The Warrior of Light was a symbol of hope to all, the unflinching bastion against the tide of Darkness. All knew him as a hero. Many knew him as an adventurer. 

The Scions knew him as a friend.

Estinien knew him as Damian, the Azure Dragoon that saved his life. He also knew him as the Xaela that smelled incredible and--

\--well, that was the problem.

“That was the last of the them.”

Estinien couldn’t help the slight shiver that rattled his spine as Damian spoke. Instead, he silently blamed it on the cold, lowering his spear as he surveyed the destruction their fighting had wrought. Damian knelt amidst the carnage, patting the bodies down for any valuables.

“Aye, mayhaps the last for a while,” Estinien agreed. He wasn’t going to admit he was using the chance to examine the Azure Dragoon. Not at all. However, he privately admitted that Damian cut a striking figure. The Au’ra was dark in skin tone; his scales, tail, and horns even darker. Coupled with snow white hair and the pure white of his armor, Damian was a sinfully beautiful dragoon. 

Which was why Estinien was doing himself a favor and staying where he was, because the scaled man smelled as good as he looked. It was hard enough being an omega, a “submissive breeder” as some Ishgardians were wont to call his kin. Especially in as harsh a land as Isghard. The last thing he needed was that to be made obvious to anyone else. It was enough that Aymeric knew--

“Estinien? Did you see something?” 

He was far too close. Far too close. Estinien could see the concern shining from those golden eyes. Absently, he found himself wondering what it would be like if he could be the sole object of such an intense gaze. 

“Merely in thought,” Estinien replied, turning away, striding towards the dungeon’s exit. “Come. The weather holds for now.”

It was a few moments before he could hear Damian’s steps behind him.


	2. Even beasts seek shelter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things can't be denied. Even in the face of a blizzard. Even in the face of world destruction. Even in the face of danger. 
> 
> Yet, we try. 
> 
> But, in the end, what lurks in the dark is always brought to light.
> 
> The Warrior of Light is different.
> 
> Perhaps I can be, as well.

* * *

 

Damian growled, glad of the howling wind drowning out the intensity of the sound, as he leaned further into his chocobo, steering his trusty companion towards Whitebrim.  The blizzard had set on them suddenly, leaving them to struggle through the winds and snow.

Thankfully, it gave him something to focus on that wasn’t Estinien.

_Does it surprise you?_

Midgardsormr appeared in front of him, curled in the space of his legs and the bird’s saddle.  Damian glanced down, frowning deeper at the knowing look in the Silvertear guardian’s eyes.

_Desire. Affection. Loyalty. Offer them to him._

If he wasn’t so focused on trying to get to Whitebrim, he’d roll his eyes.  As it stood, he bobbed his head in a slight nod, going still as Estinien tightened his grip around his waist.

“Is aught amiss?” Estinien yelled over the howling, his voice igniting that fiery want that Damian had been struggling to ignore.

“I found the cave!” Damian called over his shoulder, pulling the reins of his chocobo as he spotted the cave he’d been searching for.  “Hang on a little more!”

Estinien rumbled something into the crook of his neck, but otherwise held on.

Damian ignored the how badly he wantedto protect him.

* * *

 

Estinien knew the cave was the best place to hide out the blizzard.  Unfortunately, they weren’t the first creatures to think so. He wasn’t keen to fight after being in the sharp winds for the past few hours, and especially not with the sun setting.

Then the snarl ripped through the air as a spear sailed by his helm.

Sounds didn’t have colors, but Estinien swore that sound was pitch black.  Dragoons toed the line on being subject to being controlled by dragons, so it made sense that they picked up some of their traits.  

Hearing that sound from Damian, his beloved--

\--he did not just think that.

“I’ll be back. Wait here.”

He watched Damian stalk, not walk, to the back of the cave, where neither wind nor light reached.  Instinct demanded he try to appease the man; rationale wondered what angered him; self-preservation kept him in place.

“Warrior of--no, Damian,” Estinien said simply, relying on the rumble of his voice to carry through the cave. “Are you well?”

“Are you well?”

* * *

 

Damian paused mid-stab, ignoring the sudden images of warm green eyes and a gentle smile with familiar pink robes.  

_You must leave me!  As long as you live, as long as you are free, the light of hope will bring the dawn!_

The creature in front of him hissed, drawing a growl from him as he ran the beast through.  

_Go!_

Something was behind him, it reeked, and it’s bloodlust was obvious--nothing like the white haired rogue that made it his mission to spook him, just like he spooked Tataru.  

_Go on ahead, we’ll be there.  Shall I have this dance, Y’shtola?_

He kicked it, the sheer force of the blow stunning the beast as he reached forward, slamming the thing on his spear.  There was blood, there was always blood, but it was the price he paid for being an attacker, a dragoon. His _only_ defense was his offense.  As long as he was smart about it, as she’d remind him time and again, there was no reason to come out with such wounds.

_The idea of being trapped with you, Thancred, for all eternity is a terrible one._

Damian stared into the lifeless eyes of the beast, sliding it off as recalled the lectures about death, recalled their will to fight to the very end.  

_Yda!_

_Here I go, Papalymo!_

There really wasn’t much separating them from the beasts he killed, but he missed them all the same.  Just like what few memories he had of his family, just like what became of the Dravanians he’d had to kill, just like _everything_ he held dear, something always tried to take it from him.

“Damian?” Estinien walked up to him.  Damian turned to look at him, wondering how he seemed to the Ishgardian.  The visor hid his eyes, so there was only so much he could tell. But his body was relaxed, and his scent was calmer, relieved now that Damian was in his sight.

“I’m fine,” he replied, flicking the blood off with a flourish of a spear. “Got ambushed.”

He would kill whatever tried to take Estinien, too.

* * *

 

Estinien was no fool.  

He watched Damian set the fresh-killed beasts towards the front, the bodies steaming in the cold.  The Azure’s eyes were bright, but cold, haunted. He would occasionally stop mid-motion, watching something unseen.

Estinien knew the look of a man pushed to the brink and unable to grieve.  

* * *

 

They slept next to each other, the cold quickly removing any complaints about closeness.  Closeness meant _warmth_ , and warmth meant life.  

Damian was tired of death.  

Next to him, Estinien lay curled in the blankets and hides, silvery wisps of hair glimmering in the low light of the fire.  There was still a while before the dawn, but Damian had given up sleeping.

How could he, when his dreams were filled with the people he’d lost or killed?

Instead, he turned and reached for Estinien.  The dragoon shifted slightly. Damian yanked his clawed hand away and curling in on himself.  Being this close was a terrible, terrible thing. But it was warm.

* * *

 

_He was small, too small to fight.  Everything was on fire around him, but it wasn’t warm--it was cold._

_Soldiers ran by, screaming mean things.  Those soldiers killed everyone, even his parents.  He couldn’t remember their faces._

_It hurt all over again when he saw Minfilia’s face on his mother’s broken body._

_That’s when one of the dragons found him, curled up, shivering, and crying.  He thought it was going to eat him. Instead it flew him away from it all, and laid itself around him, a soft humming growl luring him to a dreamless slumber._

_Vaguely, it reminded him of Estinien’s sleepy growl._

* * *

 

Damian woke with a start, gasping for breath.

The fire was still going--learning thaumaturgy was useful, after all--but the sky was still dark.  It still didn’t explain how he was so warm.

Something stirred in his bed roll, tickling the scales along his chin.  He stilled, sniffing it softly. 

He knew that scent well.  He also knew the arm wrapped around him, holding him close, almost possessively.  Damian let himself enjoy the contact, purring sleepily. He needed this, needed  _ more _ , but--  

It was still too early.

Hopefully, Estinien wouldn’t be too upset.  He didn’t want to get woken up by an angry spear in places he didn’t need it.

He’d settle with sleepy cuddles.

Estinien kept still, letting Damian cuddle him.  He knew nightmares all too well. 

To know that Damian suffered them as well brought an emotion he couldn’t name.  It hurt, though. 

Besides, if he was honest with himself, he needed this just as much as he did.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahaha---okay, yeah, no, writing this sequence out lowkey hurt. A lot. Don't worry, it's gonna start looking more like a smut. Eventually. I like plot with these kinds of things. Makes the climax tastier, y'know? 
> 
> Oh, a bit of backstory the lovely Au'ra dragoon MC: so, the Au'ri got massacred because Isghard has lots of idiots. Go figure. What saves Damian, though, is that he's a child that knows how to hide. Cue him being found much, much later--after witnessing everything he knew and loved pillaged, violated, and murdered in front of him in a blaze of murderous zealotry--by a not-murderous dragon. The next bit of his life is him growing under the love, care, and tutelage, of dragons. 
> 
> The scars never healed, just got buried under an insatiable curiosity for the world beyond the snows stained with blood and vengeance for his slain siblings. Becoming the Warrior of Light was not what he planned, but it gave him a chance to see the world. 
> 
> It also reopened those bloody scars, something Estinien is going to have his hands full with when he realizes that his favorite WoL is more dragon than man.
> 
> In any case, thanks for reading! There's more coming eventually.


	3. From the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many falter in the face of insurmountable odds. There are those that stand against them, unflinching, and cry "Rebellion!"
> 
> I was one of them, till I was consumed. 
> 
> The Warrior of Light is also being consumed slowly, steadily. 
> 
> It eats away at him.
> 
> How can someone like me help him?

The blizzard continued for another day.

Estinien glared into the fire, frowning as Damian paced.  He’d been doing that for the past few hours--sit somewhere far away from him for some time, growl, and then pace.  

He watched him stride across the cave.  Well,more accurately, he was watching Damian’s hips and the definition of his legs.  There was also a scent in the air that he was distinctly ignoring.

Damian was _struggling_.

He knew exactly what the creeping, _wanting_ feeling meant and he was _not_ going to give it the space to exist.  

Even if Estinien was _right_ _there_ , that didn’t mean this was okay, he was okay--

\--hell, _he_ wasn’t okay. He was nowhere close.

Midgardsormmr appeared in front of him on the return route of his pacing.  Estinien was busily polishing his spear. Damian glared.

He didn’t like the knowing look in the elder dragon’s eyes.

_Even you cannot fight this.  You have needs, child, just as every living being does._

Damian shook his head, continuing to walk.  He didn’t need to look to know that the dragon was still gazing at him.  

_The longer you deny them, the more insistent they will become._

He sighed heavily.

It didn’t help that he was right.

* * *

 

He took over dinner.

Damian wasn't fond of the idea--the displeasure was punctuated that with a deep, fang-baring snarl.

Estinien glared, eyes widening ever so slightly when Damian’s eyes flickered just before he turned away.

Damian continued pacing.

He started making dinner.

Perhaps some food would ease the tension.

* * *

 

The silence was stifling.

“Must you continue this infernal pacing?”

Estinien watched Damian pause, tail twitching slightly before turning to face him.  He wondered if the Au’ra knew that his tail said a lot about his mood.

The current twitching said he was angry.  The scent in the air indicated that the anger was his being distraught.

He _wanted_ to help Damian, however he could.  He owed the man no less, and--

\--and he cared. A lot.  There were few he could trust, and even fewer that understood.  Estinien was a fool, but not enough to squander such a priceless treasure.

Which was why he would help, no matter what.

It just meant getting Damian to talk, something neither were known for.  He had heard that Damian was surprisingly loquacious after a few drinks.

“Sorry,” Damian muttered, sitting on a boulder near the entrance, absently palming a small brooch.

Estinien watched him, stirring the stew pot thoughtfully.  

“Something is on your mind,” he continued, focusing on the pot and not the gaze on him. Suddenly being faced with such a gaze left him acutely aware of so many things he didn't want known.  “What troubles you?”

“It's,” Damian began, hesitating before heaving a deep sigh. “It isn't something you _could_ help with, though the thought is appreciated.”

“Is it some young lass?”

He wasn't going to acknowledge the bitterness that laced his voice nor the curious light in Damian’s eye.

“Not the kind you'd believe. And no, not really. But I do,” here, he paused, the whisper carrying, “I care for them. I worry, however, that I may bring them more bane than blessing.”

“You are the Warrior of Light, Damian. There are far fewer blessings that can be had.”

“Your words are kind, Estinien, but there are people even I could not protect. I am no hero.”

Estinien looked at him, frown melting away as Damian ducked his head, looking away.

“No hero would kill to protect.”

* * *

 

Estinien looked at him a moment longer before resuming stirring the pot.  Damian growled, resuming his pacing.

“Halone guide your steps,” Estinien murmured quietly.

Damian wondered if he knew that he had to keep moving rather than let himself stay any closer.

Estinien was the Azure Dragoon to everyone else.

But to him--

“Offer them to him,” he whispered softly.  

Midgardsormmr was ancient and wise.

But would that help with _this_?

* * *

 

Estinien wasn't prepared for the sudden roar that erupted from Damian, punctuated by his fist piercing through the cave wall like a spear through dragon hide.  Damian’s back was to him, but his tail was swaying dangerously slow.

There were a number of things wrong at the moment. First and foremost, the sudden rage.  Next was the gnawing feeling that Damian needed help.

“Damian, what has your ire?” Estinien asked, stepping away from the pot to check on his fellow dragoon.  Damian looked over his shoulder, pinning Estinien to that spot with a distinct, uncharacteristic glare. “Damian?”

“Ire? No, it's--”  Damian shook his head, turning to face him. “I'm so sorry.”

“Stop giving me apologies when I seek answers, Damian,” Estinien wanted to be angry, but all he could feel was a strange sort of pity.  It was familiar, almost, the seething rage; how many times had he seen it in a dragon’s eyes when he took its life?

Wait.

“Are you--”

“I'll tell you in the morning,” Damian interjected, stopping him. “Not now.”

“While I would not force you,” Estinien told him, ignoring the way his body warmed up as he approached, “I must insist. You have not been yourself, and it is troubling you.  You scream in your sleep, Damian, the cries of a man witnessing loved ones lost.”

Dimly, he wondered why he had gotten so close.

Then he realized Damian’s eyes were dragon's eyes.  Intense, focused, thin dragon's eyes.

* * *

 

“Do you trust me, Estinien?”

Damian fought for each word, not daring to take more than the slightest breath. Not with him that close. Not with waking nightmares waiting to spring at any moment.

Every moment he spent with Estinien brought back the same feelings of warmth and happiness with the Scions, the same feelings of camaraderie with his free company, and something more.

If he was honest, it had always been there, ever since their first meeting when he'd first become a dragoon.  But now, after the war, after nearly losing him after everyone else he'd lost--

\--it had gone from a quiet whisper to a deafening roar, one he found himself hard pressed to ignore.  

Which meant taking action.  Unfortunately for him, he didn't know how. Especially not with an unwanted “gift” that made his symptoms so much worse.  The only thing he could hope for was to catch Aymeric at Whitebrim.

But he could deny it no longer.  

“Estinien, do you trust me?” he asked again. He despised how low his voice had gotten--it was the most distinct indication of how tenuous his self-control had become.  

Being an Alpha meant he could influence, if not coerce, people into yielding. He hated that he could, but it was useful. The only thing he worried was that he didn't accidentally hurt someone, especially an Omega.

Unfortunately for Estinien, he was an Alpha denied many things--rest and sex the most egregious. A denied Alpha was an _angry_ Alpha.

Estinien closed the distance, putting a clawed hand--by the goddess, he was so deliciously _warm_ \--on his shoulder as he stared at him with those impossibly cobalt eyes.

“I trust you.”  

His voice had no business being that alluring.

“On the morrow, once we're moving again, I'll tell you why,” Damian told him, reaching up to gently remove Estinien’s hand. “What I can tell you now is that you're right. I am not myself. But I'm trying very hard to be.”

“Have you grieved any?” Estinien asked, pulling him to the stew pot.  “You are not driven by revenge, but that loss still eats at you. I do not think a fight against you will be so easily won.”

It was a joke, Damian realized belatedly, blinking as Estinien handed him a bowl.  He took it in hand, immediately eating. The anger that came from being denied consumed so much more energy.  If they weren't waiting out the blizzard, he'd have gone out and hunted more of the furry lizards around the area.

“There hasn't been time to,” he explained, pouting at the empty bowl.  Estinien chuckled, refilling his bowl before eating his own. “I don't know how.”

“This is what Aymeric told me once: ‘emotions, given form, can be released,’” Estinien told him. “I was a revenge addled fool at the time.  I called him a number of things before I realized the truth of his words.”

“How do you sleep?”

Estinien couldn't help the soft sound he made.  How could he, hearing the anguish in the voice of the person he adored so? The only other person he'd heard that way was Alphinaud, when he'd first encountered the boy.

“Cry, rage, howl--whatever you must,” Estinien answered.  “When you release the pain, sleep comes easier.”

He wasn't expecting Damian to walk over and lean just close enough to whisper in his ear.

"Thank you, Estinien.”

* * *

 

They had talked into the night, trading stories of the loved ones they mourned. At some point, he wasn't sure when, he fell asleep.  The last thing he recalled was Estinien’s rumbling laughter at hearing of how his free company had taken on Titan.

But now he was awake, covered in sweat and gasping for breath. He peeled himself away from his pallet, glancing around to make sure Estinien was still asleep.  His abdomen _ached_ from how hard he was, but it was the fiery itching from his scales that had woken him.  He looked at his hands, watching in a mix of horror and fascination as his nails lengthened into claws.

He couldn't--not now. Not with Estinien, dear Estinien.  

Why couldn't it have happened while he was still with his free company--

_Your link pearl is by the fire._

Damian scrambled to his feet, swallowing the soft moans of agony as he made his way back to the campfire.  He was never sure of anything except the need for release and the increasing fire rushing through his veins.  The last time it had gotten this bad was during one of Aymeric’s lunches. It had taken Aymeric continuously talking to him to keep him from doing something stupid, and even then, that didn’t save the man from being pinned.

Thankfully, Aymeric was more than glad and it had led to some happy discoveries--

\--the sharp, echoing throb of pain in his gut reminded him of the current dilemma.

Where was that linkpearl?  

_By your talon.  Your control over yourself is slipping, hatchling._

If he trusted himself to be able to speak, he'd have made a quip about how obvious that was.  Instead, he grabbed the linkpearl, leaning against the cave entrance as he breathed slowly. The cold helped, took the edge from the heat.

He waited a few more moments before linking to Aymeric’s linkpearl, stifling a soft whine.

_‘Damian?’_

“Help. Please,” Damian pleaded hoarsely, hating every bit of the rasp in his voice.  “Got bad.”

_‘How long?’_

“A--a few days? I think?” He growled, frustration fueling that fire to burn hotter.  “Think I scared him.”

_‘Damian. Friend of my heart. Can you hear me?’_

“Mostly.” The snow seemed inviting.  So did Estinien. He vaguely wondered why Estinien smelled so good.  “Oh no.”

 _‘Focus on my voice, Damian.’_ Aymeric’s voice was cool, soothing. He missed him, missed touching him. He also wanted to touch Estinien.   _‘I know it's hard on you. But you are almost there.  You've done well. You know you'll have to tell him eventually, yes?’_

“I know,” he grumbled, leaning forward as the scales on his back stiffened.  He didn't have much of a change in armor. “But--”

He stifled a yell as the dragon within surged forward, hungry and demanding. Damian clutched his knees, keeping his eyes on the ground and breathing slowly.  There were few things he was afraid of, but letting  _Estinien_ see that side of him was easily on that list.  He would not succumb.

_‘Damian, it will be okay.  Soon, you'll be able to curl next to your beloved. And when you reach Whitebrim, I'll be the there, too.  Then we can talk with Estinien. Did you know he likes trying good food? You haven't cooked for me since that last mission, you know.”_

“Next-next time, perhaps? Maybe even--”

This time, he couldn’t stop.

* * *

 

The sound that came from the cave entrance shook Estinien awake.

He sat up abruptly, reaching for his spear immediately.  A quick glance revealed Damian’s pallet was empty.

That was concerning.

Estinien pulled himself out of his pallet, stepping gingerly.  Damian had fallen asleep suddenly, during their talking, but the soft sounds he made as he had slept had given him reason to believe that this was the calm before the storm.  Whatever Damian was struggling with was beginning to win.

He ignored the sudden spike of sorrow at the idea of losing his beloved.

He sighed.

Perhaps he really did love the man. The question, then, was the matter of how this would be received, and to what extent his own feelings ran for the dragoon.

There was that sound again, low and scraping.  This time, a particularly familiar scent carried with it.

Estinien swallowed, setting his spear down and creeping towards the front of the cave.  As expected, the sound got louder as he got closer. But with that closeness brought new detail--the faint whine of anguish and whispered conversation.

_‘--since that last mission.’_

That was Aymeric’s voice.

“--maybe even--”

And then he felt his bones rattle as a snarl shook the cave.  He surged forward, worry for his dearest dragoon erasing any sense of self-preservation.  The cave reeked of dragon, and the simmering tension in the air bespoke of a wounded creature.

He wasn’t expecting to see Damian crouched nor claws on his hands.

He _definitely_ wasn’t expecting to suddenly be on his back, staring into distinctly feral golden eyes.  

_“I’m not myself.  But I’m trying very hard to be.”_

Suddenly, it made sense.

_‘Damian? Damian! What are you doing? Talk to--’_

Estinien watched as Damian reached over and silenced the linkpearl, turning back to glare at him.  He bared his teeth, tightening his grip on his arms. Estinien winced, not daring to look away.

“I mean you no harm, Damian.”

For once, he was glad of his nature.  Estinien held himself still as Damian leaned forward, sniffing along his neck before slinking back.  He was dimly reminded of the lithe dragons that prowled the Ishgardian wasteland--smaller in size, but no less dangerous and deceptively strong.  Their long bodies hid tremendous strength.

How fitting that it was the Azure Dragoon, savior of Ishgard, that was so much like the very dragons they bore their titles from.  

Estinien sat up slowly, making sure his every motion was clear before Damian’s watchful gaze.  He could tell he was hurt, but the question was where. It had to have been severe to bring him to this level.  A pair of familiar, ancient, and watchful eyes followed his movements.

Midgardsormr? _Here_?

_You have his trust and his heart, dragoon.  What will you do with them?_

Oh.

Damian turned away, apparently having determined Estinien was not a threat (he was glad, fighting him would have hurt beyond the physical wounds he’d accrue), and was curled on his side, clutching his middle tenderly.  He smelled--

\--well, he smelled amazing, but also _aroused_.  Which did nightmares for his own self control, but he was ever one to put duty before desire.  Omega or no, he would not leave Damian to fend for himself.

Which was why he was kneeling beside the feral dragoon, carefully placing a hand on his hair and scenting his desire to help as Damian _growled_ , fangs a hair’s breadth away from his face.

He should _not_ be this turned on.

“Where are you hurt?”

Another growl. Hm.  Perhaps a different method, more like Aymeric’s approach--

“Damian, how can I help?”

Were those his _fangs_?  Were they always so obvious? By Halone’s spear, the man’s lips were sumptuous--

\--he was being hugged?

“What are you--” he queried softly, confused, as he tried to move to where he could see.  The snarl he got in response was command enough. Estinien held still, letting Damian hold him.  After a few moments, Damian laid him on his back, lithe body crawling over his--

\--it was _unfair_ how damnably attractive he was--

\--wait, was that a _smirk_?--

Damian rested his head on his chest, chest rumbling with a contented hum, as he draped himself over the concerned dragoon. A soft, rhythmic tapping sound followed soon after. Estinien relaxed with a faint smile.

It was amusing, really, that feral as he was, all Damian had wanted to do was to listen to his heartbeat.

The smile faded, though, as the implications of such a simple want came to mind.

Instead of continuing to consider them, he indulged in touching him, rubbing Damian’s back as he gently pet his hair.  The small flick of his tail was adorable, though he wouldn’t admit it.

He really did love the man.

...how in Halone’s name was he going to go about this?

He’d deal with it later, after they reached Whitebrim.  Damian’s breaths had slowed to a quiet rhythm, punctuated with the occasional soft purr.  There was still plenty of night left for sleep, and he’d need every bit for tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's taken a while, huh? Can't say I'm terribly surprised. Irl has been....well, rough. But I'm taking it one step at a time. I assure you, I will see this through. 
> 
> Enjoy the read, folks, and let me know what you think.


	4. Man is a storm with the voice of the gods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet I must, 
> 
> For he is slowly consumed by the flames
> 
> Of dragoons, dragons, and detritus of the past
> 
> Perhaps it is one such as I 
> 
> That can help him
> 
> While we are both saved
> 
> By the voice of angel.

Damian woke slowly, body sore from exhaustion, but surprisingly comfortable.  It was  _ warm _ .  He nuzzled into it, a happy sound rumbling in the back of his throat.  He was getting bad about that, but at the moment, he really didn’t care.

“Must you move so?”

Hold up.

He sniffed once, then twice, eyes wide.

Did he really--

“There are hours yet till we must alight,” Estinien’s raspy growl informed him.  “You can explain then. Go back to sleep. You need it.”

He wasn’t  _ wrong _ , but why was he so okay with this?  

….he really was warm, though.  And smelled nice. And was comfortable to lay on.  The faint scratching around his horns was amazing. He didn’t know he was so sensitive--

\--oh, Halone’s Fury, the last he needed was to be hard at this moment.

“ _ Damian _ .”

“...yes?”

“Go to sleep.”

“You’re not--?”

He was not expecting Estinien to pull him--he knew the man was strong, but this was new--to his face and kiss him, lingering on his lips before pressing his forehead against his.

Estinien had such soft lips. 

“Go to sleep.”

Damian went to sleep.

* * *

 

The ride to Whitebrim was long.  

Which meant ample time for talking.  

Thankfully, the blizzard had past, which meant they could walk.

Estinien was  _ not _ in the mood to rush.  Damian was not one to talk much as it were, and even then, the answers he demanded were incredibly personal.  Not to mention last night. And the kiss this morning.

There was a lot to talk about.

“Why did you kiss me this morning?” Damian asked quietly, turning to face him.  Estinien could see the blush flush on his sharp cheeks. “Not to say I disliked it, not at all, but--”

“Question for question, then?” Estinien suggested, giving him a reprieve.  Who would have thought the Warrior of Light was shy? “To answer yours--I wanted to.”

“You-you wanted to?” 

“Ah ah, my turn,” Estinien said with a grin. He reveled in Damian’s intent, expectant gaze.  “What brought you to that state?”

There was a pregnant pause as he turned away, resuming walking.  Estinien walked after him, waiting.

“Au’ra are rumored to descended from dragons,” Damian explained, glancing over his shoulder.  “You know of this, yes? Those stories are not all untrue. From what the elders have mentioned, the Raen learn how to tap into this in the elder years of their meditations.  Xaela are prone to wander and fight, so it is rarer.”

Estinien paused, stopping at Damian’s side as the man stopped.  Damian looked at his gauntleted hand, seeming forlorn and commanding all at once.  He was reminded, once, when he witnessed Damian unleash his wrath on Nidhogg. The aether surrounding them manifested as glorious silver-blue winged dragon, seeming to wrap itself around him before he leapt into the air, driving his spear into the dragon’s hide.  It was in that moment he realized that underneath his, at the time, hatred of dragons was considerable respect.

“But when we do,” Damian continued, giving him a wry smile,  “it’s a show. We are fiercer, more aggressive. Sometimes even feral.  At our worst, we become something like berserkers. Xaela are, more often than not, Alphas because of this. You can imagine how this blends with being a dragoon.”

“You’re an  _ Alpha _ ?” Estinien couldn’t help the half-note his voice raised.  

Damian had the grace to look slightly offended.

“Just because I am not as big as the old man does  _ not _ \--”

And he was  _ indignant _ , Halone’s Fury.  

“I do not mean insult, Damian,” Estinien explained between chuckles.  Damian pouted--he actually pouted!--before a crooked grin spread on his face.

Suddenly, Estinien was very turned on. And worried. But mostly turned on.

“It’s hard to believe you’re an Omega--unless I’m wrong?” 

Estinien looked at him, but didn’t object.  There was no point when the man spoke true. Especially when said man was the Warrior of Light.

“Your silence is an agreement, then,” Damian mused as the grin faded from his face.  “Your heat is soon, isn’t it?”

“Many underestimate your perceptiveness.  You know this, and yet you stay near? Surely even you would not bother to--”

“ _ Don’t _ finish that sentence.”

He was surprised to feel a weighty, but familiar clawed gauntlet on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks and spinning him around.  The surprise continued as he was pulled into a crushing hug, the scent of oiled steel, musk, and dragon fire catching him by surprise. 

“I won't take advantage of you,” Damian rumbled, radiating protection and security. “Once we catch up with Aymeric, he can help. And then you'll be safe to wait it out.” 

He really was an Alpha worth falling for. 

Lucky for him, he'd fallen a long, long time ago. 

* * *

 

Estinien waited until Damian had laid down for the night before he called Aymeric.

The noble there was all too happy to provide them lodging, and was blissfully smart enough to not pry. He did, however, mention a private area in case they had need of it. 

Estinien had frowned at the time, but now he was grateful. 

“Aymeric, are you there?”

_ ‘Estinien? Gods be good, this is a miracle. To what do I owe the pleasure?’ _

He really wished he wasn't calling on such a dismal note. He'd forgotten how much he missed the Lord Commander. Aymeric was his first and oldest friend.  It was he that he trusted to help with his heats and to lead their country to greatness.

“Damian is falling apart, and you are as well. He hasn't slept much. Sometimes, he is even feral. Why didn't you tell me he was an Alpha?”

That, perhaps, was what stung the most--knowing Aymeric had been trusted with before he was ever considered.

_ ‘You did not ask.  He fancies you, after all.  I assumed it would come about in conversation. As for the rest--of all who fought in the Dragonsong War, he is the one who suffered the most fighting on our behalf. It should not surprise, then, that without the threat of world destruction, the suppressed emotions are bubbling over.” _

He what? 

_ ‘Are you really so surprised? I've told him time and again that he has no reason to worry. But he's been particularly dense where you're concerned.’  _

“How do I love a man that deserves better than me, one who succumbed to possession?” 

_ “By letting us love you.’ _

Hold up.

“ _Us_? What do you--” __

_ ‘We'll speak more at Camp Dragonhead, Estinien.” _

* * *

 

Damian woke up slowly, pressing himself against the bed in an effort to ease the painful stiffness in his back. 

It had been another nightmare. He vaguely recalled prowling about the room before finally settling back in bed, whining softly. Midgardsormmr had appeared, too, curling around him till he slept. 

He was so embarrassed.

_ Do not be.  _

“Why is this happening? It's never been this bad,” Damian murmured, burying his face in his pillow. He was hard, burning up, and could smell everything and everyone a yalm away. Easily. 

In fact, there was a particular scent that he was trying to ignore. Weapon oil, dragon blood, and warm sunlight with a hint of sweetness that only Omegas had. 

_ You found the other mate for your heart. It is not oft occurring, but it is hard to deny. _

‘Hard to deny,’ indeed.  His claws were wrapped around the frame of the bed, preventing him from going outside on instinct. 

_ Rest. The dragoon will fetch you when it is time to leave. _

* * *

 

Estinien laughed at the sight of Damian being attacked by a startled chocobo.

He knew why the chocobo was scared, too--how could it not be, when Damian’s presence was all but that of a dragon--but it was amusing to witness Damian try to assuage the chocobokeep while he fended off the panicking bird.

In the end, they decided to use Damian’s company bird. 

Estinien thought it was cute that he named it Kyrie.

Damian sighed in relief as they walked into Camp Dragonhead.  He’d let Estinien ride his chocobo rather than let the now-jittery bird threaten to buck him.  It was more that he didn’t trust his volatile temper than Kyrie. 

“The Lord Commander should be in the main building,” Estinien suggested quietly.  He urged Kyrie towards the building, eyeing Damian walking beside him. 

If he was honest, he felt  _ terrible _ .  Several nights of no sleep, two monster ambushes, and at least four rounds of having to stop midway--Estinien’s insistence, apparently he’d been growling and unaware of it.  The gauntlets covered his claws and talons, but it was his eyes that he was really concerned about.

“Damian, go on and meet with Aymeric.  I’ll follow shortly.”

Had he known any better, he’d have said that Estinien sounded almost gentle.  Still, the idea was sound and the sooner he got to a shower, the better.

“You’ve gotten so much worse.”

Damian just looked at Aymeric, making a small sound of acknowledgment.  Lucia watched them a moment.

She frowned, starting to walk towards him until he snarled at her approach.  Her eyes narrowed, but it was concern that creased the corner of her eyes rather than the disgust he was familiar with. He ducked his head, looking away and stifling a whine.

He hated being like this.

“Lucia, will you have their rooms prepared?” Aymeric requested quietly.  Lucia nodded, making sure to give him space as she left.

“It gets easier, Warrior of Light,” she told him gently, before leaving to do as she was bid.

They stood in silence.

“Will you not sit? It will take her a few moments to ready the rooms, and I doubt you would mind a moment to rest,” Aymeric offered.  “Lucia found some of your favorite tea, as well.”

“I don’t trust myself,” Damian hoarsely whispered, shaking his head.  He was vaguely aware that his claws were tightly clenched at his side, shaking.  “Estinien found out. So I had to tell him. I don’t regret it, but--”

“You have ever been one to fight on behalf of everyone but yourself,” Aymeric pointed out.  “Damian, please, rest. It will be fine. Reports show that the blizzard has pushed them back for several days yet.  It will not show any less of you to take these few days to rest.”

“Milord, Warrior of Light--your rooms are ready,” Lucia announced as she strode back in.  She turned to Damian, giving him a faint smile. “Estinien requested I bear a message to you-- _ go to sleep _ .  I find myself in accordance with this.  You have the eyes of a man that has not slept for days.”

He nodded, leaving the room.  Sleep sounded wonderful.

* * *

 

“Estinien, do you have a moment?” 

He always had a moment for Aymeric.  Aymeric and Damian were the only people he would willingly drop whatever he was doing to attend to.  Alphinaud, too, provided it wasn’t one of his lectures. The boy could  _ talk _ .

“Yes, Lord Commander?” Estinien didn’t mind calling him by his title.  Aymeric had earned it time and again.

Oh.  There was that feeling.

“There isn’t much time, is there?” 

He was going to have to tell him about asking obvious questions when he already had the answer.

“Must you ask obvious questions, Aymeric?” Estinien rumbled, sitting in the chair.  “Yes, there’s only a few more days. Two weeks, at best, I think.”

“Have you thought on our last conversation?” he leaned back in his chair, legs akimbo as he sipped his tea.  

Estinien did his best to not look down.  Instead, he grabbed a cup of tea. He didn’t have to look up to know Aymeric was smirking.  He  _ did _ have to look up when Aymeric climbed over the desk and tilted his chin up, pulling the visor’s helm up.  

“You can not hide from me how you hide from Damian, dear dragoon,” Aymeric purred--it was  _ unfair _ how his voice was silk along his ears.  “Tell me your thoughts. Please?”

He was incredibly grateful that Lucia had given them privacy, because the sound he made then was distinctly  _ not _ appropriate.  Then again, a lot of his and Aymeric’s private interactions had ended in some variant of this. 

“I do not appreciate being seduced into spilling my innermost thoughts,” Estinien huffed, ignoring the flush heating his cheeks.  Aymeric was  _ handsy _ , something that hadn’t changed over the course of the war.  “Is it answers you seek, or are you going to paw me until I cave?”

“The latter could happen,” Aymeric hummed amiably, taking the tea from Estinien’s hands and setting it on the table. “Let me guess--the idea of such  _ esteemed _ people seeking the affection and love of someone such as yourself?”

Hands, hands, hands in places they really don’t need to be--

“Do you really need to paw at me?”

“Yes.”

Blasted fool of a man.

“I am shaken, yes,” Estinien bit out, moaning softly as Aymeric found his way to his shoulders, gently kneading the (many) knots he found there.  “By Halone, man, do you want your answer or to be taken over your desk?”

“Both would be lovely, but my concern is for my dear dragons.” 

Estinien managed not to whimper, but he couldn’t help the happy shiver at Aymeric’s warm voice and soft lips lingering near his ear. If it his ear was claimed, he was done for.

“I care for you both,” Estinien breathed softly, reaching his hands into Aymeric’s hair as he gently directed the man’s lips to his own.  It had been too long. “But this is much to take in. Being the beloved of you both? Will this not harm either of you?”

“The only harm to be had is that of your indecision, my love,” Aymeric replied, pressing his forehead to Estinien’s.  “Do you accept?”

“I’ve always accepted your courtship, fool, how else would you be able to sit here and seduce me?” Estinien grumbled, his usual bite gone.  “But tell me--what ails Damian? He has told me some, but it should not have brought him to this. He--he is much like myself, just before I succumbed to Nidhogg.”

He wasn’t expecting to be bitten on the ear.  He tried to silence the needy whine, but there was nothing for it, not with his heat so close.  Suddenly, he regretted wearing his armor before coming in here. 

It made him want more.

“Take what you are feeling now, and intensify it,” Aymeric explained, pulling away and sitting back at his desk.  “Now, imagine that this has been suppressed for many moons now. Add onto it the trials of the war, and the re-enacted loss of a found family.  As well as the gift he’s no doubt told you about it. He is an Alpha, Estinien, one that has bloomed late due to putting others before himself. It would seem that the past few months have brought about the amplified intensity of what could be called puberty.”

Estinien just looked at Aymeric as the pieces began to fall in place.

_ ‘You have his trust and his heart, dragoon.  What will you do with them?’ _

“He has continued to fight, even under such duress, and it is only  _ now _ that he can even--”

Anger was always the fastest way to dispel Aymeric’s allure.

“And now you see why I’ve arranged for him to come here from time to time,” Aymeric continued, crossing his legs as he sipped from Estinien’s cup.  “Having been the Warrior of Light, he has reached the point where he forgets that he is a man. His love for me is as strong as it is for you.”

Except it wasn’t enough to quell the rising warmth of the dragon that lurked within his spirit. Especially not in the face of the two people he loved the most proclaiming their love for him.  Especially not with how wonderful Aymeric smelled. His scent lingered, and Estinien could feel the lingering warmth. He could also feel the return of blood to his member. 

Perhaps his heat was coming sooner than expected?

“You both need rest,” Aymeric announced, getting up.  He walked over to Estinien, giving him a gentle smile as Estinien leaned into his touch, allowing himself to nuzzle Aymeric as they hugged. “Please, allow me this.”

He’d allow him a number of other things, too, when he could think straight. As he saw it, he needed a long, hot shower and good food. 

Then he could check on Damian. 

“Yes, Lord Commander.”

Aymeric’s blinding angel's smile was worth it. 

* * *

 

There was a knock at the door. 

Right when he was finally,  _ finally _ starting to doze off. Right when he'd  _ finally _ calmed down. 

By the Twelve, heads would roll if it was  _ another _ need for some delivery or--

“Damian? Might I have a moment?” 

Aymeric.

_ His _ Aymeric. 

He faintly thought he'd be more embarrassed about the fact that he was purring, but he didn't care. Here was another almost lost, standing before him hale and--

\--aroused? 

“You smell of Estinien.”

That was  _ not _ the first thing he wanted to say. Damn instincts. 

“We talked,” Aymeric explained with a warm smile. “He accepts our court, though I fear he will have to hear your suit from your own--Damian?  Your eyes are dragon's eyes again. What is wrong? 

He accepted? He really and truly  _ accepted _ ? 

“Damian, my dearest, please--” 

That hungry fire tore through his veins, as demanding as it was pervasive. He breathed slowly, shallow, fighting against his body to step back from Aymeric.

“Aymeric. Go. Now.”

He didn't trust himself. At all. Not when he could smell the beginnings of an Omega’s-- _ Estinien’s  _ heat.  Not when he was this feral.

“I will not. Repression is partly why your self control is tenuous,” Aymeric replied simply, locking the door. 

Oh no.  Hard-headed Ishgardians would be his demise.

“Aymeric, please--” his words were barely distinguishable from the growl in his voice. He could feel the pre-cum leaking.  

So much for that shower. 

Aymeric shed his coat, setting it and the assorted belts on the table.  He then sauntered towards Damian, smiling in delight.

Of course he'd smile as he murdered the last of his self control. 

“Let me please you, Damian.” 

He really hoped Aymeric knew he tried to hold himself in check as the last of his rational thought fled.

Aymeric had enough time to blink before he was crushed in Damian’s embrace, lips being bruised in a hungry kiss.  He could feel Damian’s cocks staining through his small clothes, the small point of wetness telling. He reached a hand down there, running his finger along the length of a member slowly. 

Had anyone else heard the sound Damian made in that moment, they would have been petrified. Except Estinien.  He'd likely be turned on, though he'd--

\--the warm, wet tongue sliding along his ear and the claws on hips took far higher priority. 

Aymeric moaned, hips thrusting as he sought friction. It was the ears, always the ears,  that made him come undone. He gasped as he felt a claw pinch his nipple, twisting it ever so slightly before doing the same to the other. 

Damian kissed him again, tongue flicking against Aymeric’s teeth before Aymeric let him explore his mouth. At the same time, Aymeric pawed at Damian’s tits, massaging his nipples. The soft moan in the midst of kissing let him breathe, but not before Damian picked him up.

Aymeric blinked when he was sat in the bed, watching as Damian curled around him. 

“Damian, what are you--”

“Too tired.”

What? 

“I haven't slept in 4 days, Aymeric,” Damian muttered, resting his head on Aymeric’s lap.  “Otherwise, I'd fuck you till you sang my name.”

It was heartening to hear that he, too, was displeased at the turn of events. He blushed at how hard he'd gotten hearing that. 

“Will you be able to sleep any? Aymeric murmured, shifting his legs before running his fingers through Damian’s hair. Is was deliciously soft. Much like his lips. 

By the Fury-- 

“Maybe,” Damian hummed sleepily. “You smell better than sleep, though.  Your scents are nice together.”

“Rest, beloved.”

* * *

 

Some amount of time had passed. Damian didn't know how much. 

He knew that he hurting.

Every breath, every touch, every piece of him was in burning agony. 

Worst of all, there wasn't anything he could do.  This was the worst part of that damn “blessing.”

Tears slid down his face as he held onto the pillow.  He kept as still as he could. 

After some undetermined period of time, it would ease up.  Later, it'd be harder to not fall back on the secondary instincts he'd grown up ignoring.  He'd be hungrier, more aggressive. It was the night after that scared him--he never stayed  _ anywhere  _ near his friends.  He didn't want to discover them amongst the bodies he left in his wake.  

However, it was the now he was focused on.  The building was quiet. If he focused, he could hear the specific heartbeats of everyone on his floor.  It was comforting. Almost. 

Damian was fairly certain there were a number of problems with being able to hear such.  Then again, his entire existence wasn't normal.

Midgardsormmr appearing and curling around him also wasn't normal.  The bed wouldn't--

\--when did he hit the floor?

_ You thrashed about in your sleep. _

Oh. 

He was grateful he didn't have to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look, more of the fic. I finally finished the draft, so I can now post and edit this! Which is good, 'cause I needed this brain gremlin gone so I can finish up Ages. R&R, please!


End file.
